


A Boost in Morale

by AudaciousLittleCrumb



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Blue Balls, F/M, Fondling, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Groping, I guess you can call this a hookup?, Kissing, Light Angst, Lime, M/M, One Shot, Only adding Big Boss in the main tags because dramatic irony, Other, Passionate, Reader-Insert, Sensuality, Size Difference, Suggestive Themes, fast burn, feminine clothing, grinding (almost), i literally had a dream about this and woke up in a cold sweat right after, kinda? i guess??, sensual hookup, yes you're wearing a skirt and you will see why when you read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudaciousLittleCrumb/pseuds/AudaciousLittleCrumb
Summary: Not even a week prior, you ended up incidentally eavesdropping on a reconnaissance mission led by the Diamond Dogs, listening innocently in just a bit too long before getting caught. After they extracted you back to Mother Base, they found that you were a noncombatant, yet you would make great use with helping Commander Miller with Base Development projects. However, not long after meeting him, he started an altercation unprovoked, whacking you with his crutch. This obviously demoralized you, and people began to notice. Miller hadn't bothered to apologize, and the tension in the workplace only continued to grow day after day. Somebody has to come remedy the situation at least somewhat, right?
Relationships: Big Boss/Reader, Canon/OC, Canon/Reader, Venom Snake (Metal Gear)/Reader, Venom/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	A Boost in Morale

**Author's Note:**

> Miller's been a son of a bitch, hasn't he? 
> 
> also, in case, here is a key:  
> (f/n): first name  
> (l/n): last name/surname/family name  
> (e/c): eye color

“Jesus Christ,” (f/n) sighed. It was only their fourth full day on Mother Base, working on Base Development under Commander Kazuhira Miller, and their energy was whittling thin. Miller still gave them the silent treatment for the most part, with the exception of only speaking to them when he absolutely had to, and vice versa. He still felt guilty for being so brash with them upon his first encounter, and as a result, (f/n) still felt terrified whenever he got too close for too long. They feared that Miller might hurt them again, regardless of him showing no indication of doing so. Thus, they often remained on the verge of tears, barely able to keep themselves composed, especially when he was around.

As they noticed their desk clock hit 2000 hours, two hours after Miller left, (f/n) realized that they needed to take that long walk down the strut back to their quarters on the Command Platform to get some rest. They knew they had a nasty tendency to overwork themselves due to stress; however, they were beyond exhausted, as they barely slept the previous night. After working on resource inventory reconciliations until the wee hours of the same morning, they finally admitted to themselves that they overdid it, again, and that it was time to leave. They stood up, stretched out their back by leaning side to side, adjusted their A-line midi skirt and silk blouse, and pushed in their swivel chair to leave for the night.

A third of the way down the long strut, they shuffled back towards the command platform under the moonlight. Aside from two soldiers they spotted on night watch, (f/n) walked alone with just the sounds of the waves and their chestnut loafers clattering against the steel walkway to keep them company. The undulating Indian Ocean remained a grounding mechanism for them, as it reminded them most of the home that the Diamond Dogs abruptly took them from. Nevertheless, their brain still felt fried from the day, just like the day before that, and the day before that, and so on. However, before they got carried away, the sound of a vehicle pulling up beside them interrupted their train of thought. (f/n)’s head perked up at the sound of brakes abruptly squeaking to a stop, only to see Snake pull up beside them in a Bantam Jeep. “B-Boss!” they jerked, quickly standing at attention with their hands at their sides.

“At ease, (preferred prefix) (l/n). No need for that.” He waved his hand, watching them relax their stance. “That’s what I’ve heard Miller call you, hm?”

“As much as I try to correct him, yes,” they nodded. “Please call me (f/n), though; I prefer that.”

“Noted; he can be stubborn about little things like this, but I’ll try to remember.” He took a puff of his electric cigar that he held with his prosthetic hand. “You _really_ plan on walking all the way back?”

“I have been walking back and forth this whole time, so…”

“Do you need a ride back to the Command Platform? I do need you for something.”

(f/n) raised an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment. What could he need from them? They had only interacted once upon Ocelot introducing them to him just days ago. Snake seemed quite stern then, and while still stern now, something felt different in the air. It felt off; it made them uneasy. However, they did notice that his lips turned up into a very subtle smile, so that reassured them, but only somewhat. “Uh, sure… thank you.” They cautiously climbed into the passenger seat, and shortly after he switched gears, they were off.

\---

“Is Miller keeping you working this late?” Snake briefly glanced at them before darting his gaze back ahead, keeping his eyes on the road as they slowly weaved through narrow alleys back to their quarters. He bit his lip along his scar, staying focused.

“No, sir,” (f/n) replied. “I stayed on my own accord.” They folded their hands together, keeping their gaze at their knuckles.

“We have shifts, you know? I’m sure Miller has informed you–”

“He has not. He doesn’t really speak to me, but I just…” They briefly made eye contact with Snake before looking down again. “Regardless, I must admit that I _do_ overwork when I’m… err, how do I word this _politely_ … emotionally unwell? Stressed out of my mind? Afraid?”

Snake sighed. “It’s been like this every night, from what I’ve been hearing.”

“From who? Commander Miller?”

“Just mumblings from the other men. They’ve seen you walk back to your quarters as late as 2300 hours, if not later in one case: this morning, where you were up until 0100 hours. Your shift starts at 0800, so by that measure, you should be leaving your post by no later than 1700 hours, (f/n).” Snake gently hit the brakes, putting the jeep in park, as they reached their destination.

“I get it, I’ll try to leave earlier next time,” (f/n) retorted as they hopped out of their seat. “I assume this is goodnight,” they huffed, crossing their arms reservedly.

“Not quite.” He walked in front of them, blocking their way to loom over them. “I told you I needed you for something, didn’t I?”

(f/n) peered up at him with wide, (e/c) eyes, Snake towering over them at 195 centimeters tall. The moonlight reflected off the shrapnel protruding from his crown, and the shadows emphasized his scars and furrowed brows. They wondered what he could need them for. (f/n) first thought that it was to continue the conversation in private; however, their mind wandered to the thought of him reprimanding them even harsher than earlier. As a result, they nodded quickly out of intimidation, and they followed him up the stairs to his quarters.

* * *

Upon reaching his room, (f/n) curiously examined this unfamiliar space as Snake led them inside. The furniture he had was mostly like everyone else’s in this area of the Command Platform, the only differences being him having a wider bed than the others, along with having a larger desk set, also piled high with paperwork. “So, Boss,” (f/n) inquired, “what is it you need me for?”

“Call me Snake, please,” he assured. “Sources say you need… a boost in morale. Miller hasn’t been good to you, from those same murmurings, and gauging from what you said.”

“ _Good_ to me?” They looked befuddled. “I don’t really _expect_ him to treat me well after what happened, I-”

“Regardless, it seems my source was correct.” He stepped a little closer, cornering them near a velvet, burgundy armchair.

“Wait, what _about_ me?? What have you-”

Within a moment’s notice, the distance between them diminished as he careened their chin up, then leaning down to gently kiss their lips.

(f/n) almost pushed themselves away from him, but as his arm snaked around them, resting his hand on the small of their back, the warmth of his plush lips encapsulated them to pull them in. They immediately came to crave any comforting touch, so while they remained very worried of Snake possibly having ulterior motives, they weren’t going to refuse him. Rather, they were going to take anything they could get.

Snake slowly pulled away, concerned when he felt them shivering in his arms. “Do you need me to stop?”

(f/n) whimpered and gently shook their head, too bewildered to speak and struggling to maintain eye contact with him. They wanted him so damn bad, craving that intimate feeling, but they were terrified all the same. They were not so much terrified of _him_ , as they were more terrified of the situation he pulled them into, let alone all of its implications. Regardless of all that happened thus far, they still wanted to remain professional, to keep their distance, but this tore down all of that in an instant. “I’m alright, i-it’s okay,” they stammered. They remained unsure of that truth themselves. They were not entirely okay, but they absolutely wanted to be.

“Good, good…,” Snake murmured, slowly leading them towards his chair. He sat himself down slowly, pulling their delicate body into his lap, with (f/n) facing him. Pulling their shivering form up against his chest, Snake leaned down to lock his lips with theirs again, and they shakily leaned into him with their eyes lulling shut from his warmth.

When Snake pulled them into his lap, (f/n)’s legs relaxed, allowing Snake to hold them as he liked. His left prosthetic hand still rested on the small of their back, keeping them close, and his calloused right hand caressed their cheek. (f/n)’s movements were more hesitant, awkward almost. While they greedily took his sweet kisses, their lips nearly in perfect rhythm with his, they couldn’t figure out where to place their hands, worriedly moving them from resting them on his arms, his chest, anywhere.

“It’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this, I imagine?” Snake inquired, pulling away for a moment.

(f/n)’s face flushed. "I'm sorry?"

"Not saying it's a bad thing; it's been a good while for me, as well." He smiled warmly, placing his right hand on their hip with a gentle squeeze. “You’re so soft,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss them again.

(f/n) blushed, shuddering as they felt his icy prosthetic arm touch their back again over their thin blouse. They sharply inhaled in surprise, inadvertently taking in his scent: a mixture of his own musk and the wormwood from his electric cigar. It was intoxicating, and when combined with his right arm wrapping around them to hold them even closer, they felt weirdly at-ease. He was big enough to be imposing in comparison to them, and with all these factors combined, they entered a state of euphoria, their hearts pounding in unison. They expected him to be much rougher with them, like they had seen but he kept his tenderness, even when he gently slipped his tongue between their lips.

As (f/n) tried to keep up with Snake’s indulgent pace, their tongues twisting and dancing together, his musk bewitched them enough to grip the back of his fatigues, their toes curling. As they tried to not completely buckle underneath the emotional overload, Snake selfishly held their face in place to softly suckle their lower lip before he quickly moved down to kiss the crook of their neck. (f/n)’s heart bounced up to their throat, inviting him to kiss them deeply with a muffled moan. (f/n) felt Snake’s right hand gently move up their skirt, caressing their inner thigh with gentle squeezes. They squirmed as his fingers made circles so close to their most tender point, and in a rush of emotion, they managed to muster, “Sn-Snake, please…”

As Snake deepened his kisses into their neck, with just one stroke, he gingerly brushed his forefingers against the front of their underwear. He felt their hot, moist desperation, hearing it from (f/n)’s yearning whimpers upon acting upon that temptation. In that moment, he knew he held complete control over their tiny, trembling frame. Remembering Ocelot’s proposition to “give them a warm welcome” after informing him of their situation earlier that evening, Snake decided to indulge himself in one last thing before setting this little one free. 

With that, (f/n) felt his arms wrap around them before pulling them right up against him, and they felt his cock stand straight and tall in his tight fatigues. Snake pressed himself against them, their hips together, and (f/n) was in a daze still, attempting to compose themselves and make _some_ eye contact, but Snake’s every subtle movement against them, voluntary or not, presented new challenges to any attempt they made. Every twitch, every touch, every little squirm made them feel closer and closer to reaching ecstasy.

However, he suddenly stopped. “Snake?” they quietly pleaded, watching him straighten out his posture.

“I think I’ve given you enough,” he muttered before helping (f/n) to their feet.

“But Snake, I-I’m fine, don’t worry about me too much…”

Before (f/n) could respond, Snake shot them a firm glare, cementing his decision. He then softly gripped their hand to lead them out of his quarters, back into the glistening moonlight. He looked back at them as they shuffled down the staircase, and they were just as tired as he expected them to be. Upon reaching the entrance to their room, Snake cornered them against the door, with one hand above their head as he loomed over them. He commanded, “You are to pretend that none of this ever happened and we never encountered each other tonight, regardless of who may inquire. Is that clear?”

They gulped, feeling his gaze bore through their own. “Yessir…”

“Good.” He straightened his stance. “Have a good night.”

(f/n) watched him walk back up the stairs, and right when they heard him shut his door, they immediately typed in the code to get into their room, darting through the entryway and slamming the door shut as soon as they possibly could. 

“What just fucking happened?” they muttered to themselves, leaning up against the door. “Did this… did this really just fucking happen?” As they tried to get ready to go to bed, tucking themselves under their sheets, they wondered why Snake did all this. They pondered who his “source” was, who told him about their situation. He said it wasn’t Commander Miller, so were they that visibly stressed out otherwise? “It couldn’t have been Ocelot, he doesn't even tell Miller what’s going on with half of his own shit, so that doesn’t check out,” (f/n) murmured as they turned off their lamp, their body finally able to relax. “Maybe it was that Dire Crocodile fella I ch-chatted with the other day, or Pequod, or _mmmaybe_ it was…” They eyes lulled shut as their worries finally faded away, falling fast asleep as they originally planned.

_Mission complete._

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I headcanon Venom being a bit taller than Big Boss, just by a few centimeters though. He always seemed bigger than BB was in Peace Walker, just a hunch of mine.


End file.
